


The Suit

by thINKture, Wetislandinthenorthatlantic



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mollcroft, Molly Hooper spying!, Molly should really go to bed!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:03:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2490443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thINKture/pseuds/thINKture, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic/pseuds/Wetislandinthenorthatlantic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft is getting ready for bed ... and Molly is watching him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Suit

**Author's Note:**

> We do not own these characters. This work is for entertainment purposes only.

It had been six weeks since Mycroft moved Molly into his house. 

Six weeks since three men, dressed in black stormed into her lab in broad daylight, fatally wounded her lab assistant and held Molly hostage for two hours and 43 minutes in a house in Ealing until Mycroft's men showed up. 

Two of her captors had been killed. One had escaped. 

Six weeks of soul-crushing guilt. Mycroft's promise to Sherlock to keep Molly safe had been broken. With the third man still on the run, Mycroft was too scared to let Molly out of his sight. Losing her would also mean losing Sherlock and his heart would be shattered into a thousand shards. No. She must be kept as close to Mycroft as possible. It was the only option. 

Six weeks of Molly and Toby making Mycroft’s house into their home. At the beginning it had been quite awkward. Mycroft and Molly had only met once or twice in Molly's lab and always in Sherlock's company. But eventually Molly relaxed when she realised Mycroft wasn't so scary after all. Toby and Mycroft had hit it off right away. Turns out Mycroft was a cat person but had never bothered with pets because of his work. Toby loved the big garden to play in. 

Six weeks of Mycroft trying to make it home for dinner. For now, Molly couldn't go out so it was the least he could do – to be there for her when he could. Mycroft tried to do more from his home office so he and Molly could walk around the garden together in the afternoons. They would walk, rain or shine – his umbrella was big enough for two. 

Six weeks of treats to keep Molly's spirits up. It had started out on the wrong foot. Mycroft had chosen a pair of pearl stud earrings the first week. 

"Too much," explained Anthea. "Not all women are as high maintenance as you are used to. Try some lip gloss instead." 

Mycroft looked unconvinced but returned the earrings back into his desk drawer. Molly loved the lip gloss –he had chosen the shade himself, Mycroft proudly told her. Soon he got the hang of it and Molly enjoyed her little tokens and the fact that he was obviously thinking about her when he was away. 

//

It was all going so well and it probably would have continued on this nice safe path but one day Mycroft’s treat to Molly was a bottle of bubble bath. The weather had just begun to turn and his house was a bit chilly. More days than not, it rained.

At this time of year there is nothing better than a good soak in a nice hot tub followed by a cup of cocoa before bed to ensure a good night's sleep. He had given her the bottle right before dinner and she had been thrilled with the gift. The scent was perfect.

During the usual dinner conversation, Mycroft had asked Molly what she was going to do tonight: telly or knitting or both? 

"I'm going to have a bubble bath," came the reply. 

"Oh. That will be nice," Mycroft said. Anthea was due and he had some work to do so he wished her a nice bath. 

***

"What is Molly doing tonight?" 

For 20 minutes Anthea had been sitting on the sofa in Mycroft’s study watching him shift papers around distractedly. 

"She is upstairs having a bubble bath." 

Anthea smiled to herself. "Could you remind me, what is the capital of France?" 

Mycroft, whose mind wasn't a million miles away ... It was actually only up the stairs to the left, down the hall to the door at the end. Open the door through the room and into the bathroom to the tub filled with Molly, hot water and bubble bath ... 

He looked at Anthea in a daze. "Sorry what did you say? No idea." 

Shortly thereafter, Anthea made her excuses. Mycroft wasn't going to get any work done tonight. She suggested he had had a long week and perhaps he should turn in early. She wondered if she should have suggested that he turned left at the top of the stairs instead of right (which is where his bedroom was) but she figured he would know what to do. He was still a man after all. 

This is silly, Mycroft thought, once he was alone again in his study. Molly has probably taken some form of bath or shower every day for the last six weeks. He must be tired. Yes, perhaps it is time for bed. 

***

Her fingers now looked like prunes and the once scalding water had grown cold before Molly stepped out of the bath. The bubble bath was wonderful and had left her skin smooth as silk with a lovely lingering floral smell. She must remember to thank Mycroft again tomorrow.

Having dried herself off and put on her robe, Molly was brushing her teeth and looking out of the bathroom window. The moon was so bright tonight. Turning out the light she stood on tiptoe, leaning far over the sink, looking up in the sky –there was the full moon in all its glory. 

While in this precarious position, Molly was surprised to see the light turn on in Mycroft's bedroom. Given the height and position of the window there was no concern that Mycroft could see in; had both Molly's feet been flat on the floor she would not have been able to see out.

The curtains to his room were open and Molly watched as Mycroft came into the room and stood in front of the large, almost full-length window. His gaze was up like he too was looking at the moon. 

For the first time ever, perhaps because he didn't know she was looking, or perhaps she was feeling brave due to the distance between them, Molly really looked at Mycroft. He wasn't exactly handsome in the traditional sense, but there was certainly something appealing about him. 

While he still had an air of power about him, tonight there was something else going on behind his eyes. He looked like he was contemplating something very important – like he was preparing himself for something. 

Molly watched as he put his hand on the curtain to draw it closed. But then he stopped. His eyes dropped to the ground as he took a deep breath. 

His eyes moved up again. This time looking off into the distance, as his hands moved to the buttons of his suit coat. Slowly he pushed and flipped the buttons through the holes. He paused and put his hands in each pocket pulling out the contents – a few scraps of paper and a rogue pen. 

Reviewing the papers, he moved away to throw most of them in the bin. The final one he put in the leather tray on his dresser along with the pen. 

To Molly's surprise, Mycroft once again took up his position in front of the window. 

Next he raised his hand to his neck, and Molly's breath caught in her throat as Mycroft pulled at his blue patterned silk tie. The knot loosened slightly, his fingers worked their way between his neck and the fabric to undo the top button of his shirt. Once undone, he visibly relaxed further and he rolled his neck, welcoming the freedom.  
Slowly peeling his suit coat off, he moved his arms out of the navy fabric. Holding it in one hand, Mycroft walked over to his armoire to retrieve a hanger. He slowly slid the coat onto the hanger and left it hanging out on the outside of the cabinet. 

He returned to the window. 

Lowering his eyes, he undid the four buttons on his waist coat, pausing between each one. Molly found herself fixated on the long fingers nimbly moving over the small buttons. In one swift movement, the waistcoat was off and laid over the back of a chair. 

He took another deep breath, looking like discarding each layer removed a weight off him. Standing now with his hands on his waist he looked up again. His expression had changed. It was softer now. More relaxed. 

Next, Mycroft quickly flicked his arms out of his braces which now hung on either side of him. Putting his hands in his trouser pockets, he retrieved, phone, hankie and wallet. Wallet in the leather tray, phone plugged in next to the bed and hankie thrown in what Molly assumed was the laundry basket. 

With two hands, Mycroft grabbed the silk tie and began pulling it apart with slow deliberate tugs. Molly found herself gripping the edge of the sink tighter. His eyes closed as he flicked up his collar and pulled the tie from around his neck. Molly watched as he walked in slow measured steps to the armoire and wrapped the tie around the neck of his suit jacket. 

Again Mycroft crossed back to the other side of the room. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he untied his shoes and pulled them off. Bending at the knee to bring his foot onto the bed he then pulled off the sock, wriggling his toes as soon as they were free. Followed by the second leg. The socks were tossed into the laundry. The shoes set next to the dresser. Molly could hear her blood pounding in her ears. 

Once again standing in front of the window Molly watched, as with his gaze lowered, Mycroft's hand went to the button on his trousers. 

I should go to bed, thought Molly. I really should not be seeing this. But she didn't move. 

With the button undone, Molly gasped as Mycroft ever so slowly pulled down the zipper and holding either side of the trousers dropped the smooth fabric past his knees which he then easily stepped out of. Removing the braces, he coiled them around his hand then deliberately walked over to his dresser, putting them in his top drawer. 

Picking up his trousers, Mycroft matched up the creases, and folded them over his arm. He crossed the room to hang the trousers with his coat. 

Mycroft Holmes was now standing in his bedroom wearing only pants and a white shirt. 

Molly really, really needed to move away from the window, said her brain. She is spying on Mycroft Holmes and he was almost naked. 

Returning to the window, Mycroft was looking up at the moon with his hands on his hips. It still looked like he was contemplating something. Whatever it was Molly didn't care. She was only thankful for this pause as it gave her time to catch her breath. 

Her calves were burning. How long had she been standing like this? 

Okay she thought. Next the shirt will come off, then he will crawl into bed. 

Simple. No need to stay up. None at all. She definitely should see no more of Mycroft undressed.

Still she remained. 

Slowly Mycroft rolled his head back as he took his time and unbuttoned the top five buttons of his shirt Molly could now see his chest hair through the opening. A single bead of sweat ran down her face. 

With two buttons still buttoned, his hands stopped, and his head raised up. For the rest of her life Molly would swear that Mycroft was staring right at her, standing on tiptoe, leaning far over the sink and peering out the window in the dark guestroom en suite in his house as she watched Mycroft slip his hands under his shirt and with fingers under the waistband of his pants, slowly folded over the fabric, pushing his steel grey boxer-briefs all the way to the floor. 

Pants in the laundry. 

Mycroft walked over to his bedside table, flashing a delicious bit of hip, and picked up his phone. 

Molly watched Mycroft sweep his hand across his phone, tap twice then hold it up to his ear. 

Seconds later on her bedside table Molly's phone began to ring. 

****

"Oh hi, Mycroft. Hi."  
"Did you have a nice bath?"  
"Yes. Um. Lovely, thank you. Um. H-h-how was your, uh, working? With Anthea."  
"My mind was elsewhere so she left early."  
"Oh. Um. Okay."  
"Molly I need your help."  
"Um ... really?"  
"I'm in my bedroom. If you don't mind ... "  
"Oh. Ah ... I'll ... I'll be right there."

Molly returned the phone to her bedside table as she took a deep shuddering breath and tried to walk casually out of her room. 

****

With the lights off, only moonlight illuminated Mycroft's bedroom as Molly entered. Mycroft was standing by the window looking out. 

"It's my cufflinks," he said quietly without turning around as she approached. "Will you be so kind?"

"Of course," Molly whispered. 

Slowly Mycroft moved to Molly and held up his right arm, presenting his wrist to her. 

Molly held his gaze as she supported Mycroft's hand with hers and ran a finger over the soft fleshy part of his wrist. A small gasp escaped from his parted lips. 

With deliberate movements Molly maneuvered, then pushed the cufflink post through four layers of fabric. Swiftly removing her supporting hand, she pulled the cufflink free. Molly turned the small silver oval over in her fingers. 

She smiled when she saw the initials: MH. 

"Where ...?" 

"Top drawer," came the soft reply. 

Mycroft did not take his eyes off Molly as she walked over to the dresser and, pulling open the top drawer, easily found where the cuff link belonged. 

Returning to Mycroft, Molly took his left hand and raised it.

"Your watch first ..."

Using both hands, Molly grasped the steel band and opened the clasp, pulling the watch off Mycroft's hand. She was surprised at how heavy it was. 

As she moved to the leather tray to deposit the watch, she remarked "Your watch has left a red mark on your wrist. You should have a doctor look at that."

Once again in front of Mycroft, Molly brought his left wrist up to her lips.

"Good thing I am one." 

A whimper escaped from Mycroft as Molly deeply inhaled his scent and concentrated where his watch usually lay as her soft pink tongue gently licked his sore wrist. 

"The final cufflink ... " Mycroft's breathing was ragged. 

"Um. Yes. But you have two buttons fastened still. Perhaps they need undoing first." 

Holding each side of the open shirt, Molly ran her hands down to the two remaining buttons. So close Mycroft could feel the cool of her hands although, they never touched him. 

Molly made quick work of the buttons. Her gaze remained up; two sets of dilated pupils locked together. 

With a small smile, Molly's hands moved to the final bit of silver on Mycroft's wrist. Slowly she manipulated the metal and the fabric. 

Molly turned away moving towards the dresser to put the cufflink away. 

Turning back, Molly found him with his hands hanging at his sides gently swaying. Watching Molly approach him, seconds stretched into a week for Mycroft. 

Her hands were shaking as Molly raised them to Mycroft's shoulders and pushed his shirt down his arms. The gentle sound of the cotton hitting the ground echoed in the silence. 

"Mycroft, I need your help," whispered Molly. 

"Anything."

"Would you mind ..."

Mycroft's usually nimble fingers fumbled with the knot of Molly's robe breaking the tension, eliciting soft giggles from them both. 

"You were spying on me," Mycroft whispered as he softly laid his hands on Molly's shoulders, gently slipping his thumbs under the edges of her robe. 

"You were putting on a show. It would have been rude not to watch," Molly replied with a smirk. 

"Touché," said Mycroft as he effortlessly slipped Molly's robe off. 

Neither of them heard it hit the ground. Their attention was elsewhere.


End file.
